


Listen, Idiots

by DoctorRainyStardusttheThird (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Before a study in pink, Deaf Sherlock Holmes, Donovan and Anderson are idiots, Humour, Other, dimmock's a confused little button, lestrade and sherlock are so cute, maybe little bit homophobic anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:05:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DoctorRainyStardusttheThird
Summary: Sherlock is deaf. Lestrade calls him to a case one day to meet the Yarders, and Donovan and Anderson are arses, as per usual.But they don't realise Sherlock can hear every word.





	Listen, Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm gay and sherlock is the gayest show ever so here's a little gay fic for ya'll yay!
> 
> (i just got a girlfriend and i'm a little bit too excited about it)
> 
> so i combined surprise!sherstrade and a lil bit of deaf sherlock because i'm deaf in my left ear and i wanted to see what sherlock would be like deaf. turns out he's just as rude and sassy.
> 
> also the deductions i kinda borrowed from the show cos i couldn't come up with any of my own cos i'm not a genius like moffatiss :(
> 
> pls pls comment and kudo and prompt and love ya'll for reading :) :) :)

Donovan sighed. ‘It’s useless,’ she said dejectedly. ‘Useless!’

Anderson rocked back on his heels from where he’d been bent over the body. ‘I’m inclined to agree with Sally.’

It was a triple homicide and they had no leads. The murderer had done a good job. Anderson was the Yard’s relatively new forensic analyst, and Sally Donovan was a sergeant who’d recently been transferred, eager to prove herself to her new boss.

Lestrade sighed as well. ‘Not a single bloody lead. Whoever this guy is, he’s good.’

The rest of the Yarders were milling round, chatting and looking stressed. Dimmock came over and handed Lestrade a coffee – his third of the day, but what the hell.

‘Anything?’ Dimmock said.

Lestrade shook his head. ‘I’m thinking of giving a friend of mine a call.’

‘Another officer?’

‘Not exactly…’ Lestrade gulped his coffee, uncaring as it scalded his throat. ‘But he’s a genius at this kind of thing. I bring him cold cases to solve from time to time, for when he’s bored.’

Donovan snorted. ‘He solves crimes for fun?’

‘And he’s bloody good at it, too,’ Lestrade said pointedly.

‘What does he do?’ Dimmock said, as Anderson bagged up a couple of hair samples, attempting to look busy.

‘He works for MI6, as far as I know. Hacking, and code breaking, and tracking…all very classified, I don’t know much.’

‘Is he authorised to look at Scotland Yard cases?’ Dimmock said. He was the kind of man who worried about that kind of thing – formalities.

Lestrade shrugged. ‘He’s got a very high clearance level – it wouldn’t be official, but if he solves this case, I don’t think anyone will complain.’

‘I won’t, that’s for certain,’ Donovan grumbled. She wrapped her arms round herself. The bodies had been found by the docks, and there was a chill September breeze blowing off the river.

‘I’ll just text him then,’ Lestrade said, getting out his phone. He tapped off a quick message.

_Triple homicide. Down by the docks. Interested?_

After a couple of moments, he received a reply.

_Coming. Better not be boring._

Lestrade huffed with relief. ‘He’s on his way,’ he relayed to the others.

‘What’s his name?’ Dimmock asked.

‘Sherlock Holmes,’ Lestrade said. ‘At least, that’s the name he gave me.’

Donovan snorted again. ‘If I was going to change my name, I don’t think I’d choose _Sherlock._ I mean, it’s very…you know. Different. _’_

‘You haven’t met him,’ Lestrade said wryly. ‘He’s a different kind of guy.’

He admired Sally. She was a good cop, and had the makings of an impressive inspector. She also refused to let workplace prejudices defeat her. But she had a disconcerting way of stating exactly what she thought. And it wasn’t always pleasant.

A bit like Sherlock, Lestrade admitted. But Sherlock said whatever he liked because he didn’t understand it could be hurtful. And they couldn’t understand him anyway, half the time. Whereas Lestrade had seen Donovan act quite malicious at times, and she tended to use her authority as an officer to her advantage.

‘Hang on, who’s coming?’ Anderson said, making his way over.

Dimmock slurped his coffee and offered one to the forensic scientist. ‘Some friend of Lestrade’s. Secret agent. _Sherlock Holmes.’_

Anderson looked petulant.

‘Is this official? I don’t want him contaminating my crime scene.’

‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Anderson,’ Lestrade smiled. ‘It’s not authorised, but Sherlock’s discreet. He won’t muck up the crime scene.’

He heard the roar of a motorbike in the distance. ‘Ah, that must be him.’

Dimmock, Donovan and Anderson spun round to see this elusive friend of Lestrade’s.

A massive Harley motorbike had drawn up on the tarmac road nearby. The man sitting astride it climbed off gracefully, and tucked his helmet under his arm.

From a distance, Donovan could tell he was tall, and thin. He was wearing a grey shirt, dark jeans, cracked Doc Marten boots and a Belstaff coat that flapped behind him in the breeze.

As the mysterious Sherlock Holmes came closer, Donovan felt a rush of attraction. Namely, because he was the best-looking man she’d seen in her life.

He was light-skinned, with cerulean eyes shot through with gold. They darted everywhere, taking in everything. His ink-coloured hair was cropped short at the sides, spilling over his forehead in an explosion of silky curls, so black they were almost blue.

Face like a model, Donovan thought dreamily, before snapping to attention. Cut-glass cheekbones, firm jaw, full lips, intense, intelligent gaze…annoyingly, her type. He was younger than her, though. _Much_ younger. Only twenty-one, twenty-two. Donovan pursed her lips.

‘Excuse me, you did not tell me your friend was a fucking model, Lestrade,’ Dimmock muttered.

Sherlock paused in front of Lestrade, then lifted his hands. He began to sign something to the detective inspector, who sighed.

‘Slow down a bit, mate.’

Sherlock rolled his eyes but started again, slower this time. He stuck his middle finger up at the end, and Lestrade chuckled.

‘You didn’t tell us he was deaf,’ Anderson said, not so subtly. Donovan was about to snap at him before she realised Sherlock couldn’t hear her. ‘How’s he meant to be of any use if he can’t tell us anything?’

Sherlock watched him for a moment, then signed something else at Lestrade. He smirked crookedly, which was surprisingly hot.

Lestrade shook his head, grinning. He began to uncertainly sign back, Sherlock looking on in amusement.

‘I can speak a bit of BSL, but Sherlock generally uses his phone if he needs to speak aloud.’

‘Right,’ Anderson said, rolling his eyes.

Donovan frowned. ‘Won’t that take a bit long?’ she said, trying to keep the whiny edge out of her voice. But she _was_ very cold.

Sherlock snorted, then signed something else.

‘What did he say?’ Anderson said.

‘Um…it’s not repeatable,’ Lestrade said, shooting a playful glare at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged back, signing something else.

‘He wants to see the crime scene, I think,’ Lestrade translated, leading Sherlock under the police tape.

Donovan and Anderson exchanged impatient glances. Donovan had been fine with a second opinion, but as this guy couldn’t even _talk_ to them, it seemed like a waste of time to her.

When she and Anderson arrived at the crime scene, Sherlock was already there, bending over the bodies. He touched the collars of their coats lightly, brushed his hands over their fingers, and at one point lifted a hand of the centremost girl. Anderson let out an annoyed sound at that, but then realised Sherlock couldn’t hear him.

‘Honestly, this is taking forever,’ he said, not so quietly. He didn’t realise Sherlock had crossed to the other side of the body, and was watching him with an odd expression on his face.

When he straightened up, he got out a latest-model iPhone, and began to type away, ignoring everyone. He was still wearing fingerless leather gloves from his motorbike ride.

His fingers moved lightning-fast – Donovan had never _seen_ anyone type that fast – and he shot them exasperated looks from time to time. Like he was seeing something they ought to see. It made Donovan feel like a child, and she wasn’t going to admit that the man’s arrogance made her feel, annoyingly, even more attracted to him.

‘Play nice, Sherlock,’ Lestrade murmured.

Donovan glared, grumpy. ‘You know he can’t hear you, right?’ she huffed. ‘This is a waste of time. How’s he going to solve a case all of Scotland Yard have been struggling with?’

Sherlock paused, then resumed his texting, that crooked grin back on his face.

‘He’s a genius, you’ll see,’ Lestrade said, smiling.

Sherlock coughed. Then he held up his phone. A voice started speaking from it – low, clear, with a British accent.

_‘The killing was done by the girl’s previous boyfriend – he walked in on her having a threesome with the other two men, I imagine. There are traces of her lipstick under both the collars of the two men, and her hair is on their clothing. Also, chips of her nail varnish in the right man’s hair. I could go on – there’s further evidence – but I don’t have the time. The man you’re looking for is left-handed, judging by the position of the stab wounds – approximately six-foot, wear’s size 10 boots – prints in the mud, faint, but there. Brick dust in the prints – no construction being done nearby, so due to the strength this killing required, I’d say the suspect is involved in manual labour, and is a similar age to these three.’_

‘Hang on, Sherlock – pause it,’ Lestrade said, interrupting. He held up a hand.

Sherlock looked up, expression innocent.

‘See?’ Lestrade said to the Yarders, triumph in his tone.

‘Jesus,’ Dimmock said, suitably impressed.

_‘I use my eyes, instead of my ears.’_

‘Are you sure he’s not just making that up?’ Anderson said. ‘As if anyone could tell that from just the bodies.’

_‘Shall I go on?’_

‘In a minute, Sherlock,’ Lestrade said, rolling his eyes but looking amused.

‘That’s just freaky,’ Donovan said, comfortable Sherlock couldn’t know what she was saying. ‘No one could work that out. He’s lying.’

Sherlock signed something, angrily.

Lestrade stifled a laugh. ‘He said he’s not lying.’

Donovan blinked. ‘Hang on –‘

Sherlock was typing again, eyes fixed on hers.

‘ _I can lip-read, idiots. I can see every word you’ve been saying.’_

 ‘And the penny drops,’ Lestrade murmured to Dimmock, who looked a little satisfied. He hadn’t been comfortable with Donovan and Anderson badmouthing the guy just because they thought he couldn’t hear them.

Donovan had the grace to look embarrassed.

Sherlock’s fingers were typing again, the words blaring out as he wrote them. ‘ _Not lying. I can tell your sister is gay and going through a divorce with her wife Clara, and you’re frustrated because of her drinking problem, from your phone case. I can tell you spilt your tea on your paperwork last night while taking your sleeping tablets, and that you’re craving another coffee but can’t be bothered to get it yourself. I can tell you slept with Anderson a couple of nights ago while his wife was away on business and that you’d rather like to shag me next. The answer’s a no, I’m afraid. I’m taken, and you’re not my type.’_

Donovan had gone white. She glanced round, seeing Anderson looking stricken too. Lestrade looked like he wanted to laugh, and the Yarders were looking over in frank curiosity.

‘Freak!’ she spat, not caring if he could understand her or not. ‘That’s psychopathic, that is! You don’t say things like that!’

Sherlock looked a little dejected, not triumphant, as he slipped his phone back in his coat pocket and signed something to Lestrade.

‘Sherlock’s off now,’ Lestrade translated.

Sherlock looked tentative – almost shy – as his hands moved again. Lestrade smiled softly. ‘Sure, Sherlock.’

Sherlock stepped forwards, put a hand on Lestrade’s neck, and kissed him.

Full on the mouth.

Everyone froze, Dimmock letting out a kind of surprised splutter. The kiss lasted nearly fifteen seconds, before Sherlock broke away and clambered back onto his motorbike, unsmiling, skidding away down the Thames.

Anderson watched him go with distaste, and he didn’t look at Lestrade with the same level of respect either. ‘So you two are dating?’

‘Seriously?’ Donovan said.

‘Didn’t know you were into guys, mate,’ Dimmock said, downing his coffee casually. ‘You kept him quiet.’

Lestrade grinned. ‘I’m not, as a rule.’

Anderson grabbed up his evidence bags and stormed off. Donovan, averting the curious gazes of her colleagues, followed after him hurriedly. She was frustrated and humiliated. She’d wanted to prove herself in front of her new job – but that freak had turned up instead, solved a really difficult case and exposed her sex life in front of half the Yarders.

Anderson was angry too. That guy – that faggot - had strutted onto his crime scene, contaminating it, made him look stupid then kissed his boss and disappeared! He’d only got access to the case because he was shagging Lestrade, Anderson thought bitterly.

This wasn’t true though. Lestrade ordered family members to be interrogated again, to find out who the girl’s most recent boyfriend had been. The boyfriend – Jules Canterbury – was taken in for questioning, and confessed under pressure. The families  of the victims got closure, and Lestrade got credit for solving a remarkably difficult case, though, in the interest of full disclosure, it was down to a remarkable man – Sherlock Holmes.

To Anderson and Donovan’s chagrin, Sherlock became and integral part of the Yard. When they found out about his drug habit, it was another thing for them to use against him – but Sherlock just pointedly closed his eyes when they started speaking, even if they weren’t getting at him.

Neither were invited to the wedding, when Lestrade proposed six months later. But Donovan had to admit Sherlock didn’t look half bad in a tux.

**Author's Note:**

> so did you like?
> 
> pls check out the rest of my works and i'll check out yours :)
> 
> leave recommendations in the comments cos i haven't been able to find any good fanfics lately xx


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